


You Don't Have To Disobey (But It's Better If You Do)

by deviantmonroe



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Brat!Corey, Fingering, Gags, Group Sex, Heavy Subspace, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm denial/delay, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Sounding, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25296109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviantmonroe/pseuds/deviantmonroe
Summary: Corey's mouth lands him between several hard places.
Relationships: Chris Fehn/Corey Taylor, Corey Taylor/Mick Thomson, Corey Taylor/Paul Gray, Corey Taylor/Sid Wilson, Craig Jones/Corey Taylor, Jim Root/Corey Taylor, Joey Jordison/Corey Taylor, Shawn Crahan/Corey Taylor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	You Don't Have To Disobey (But It's Better If You Do)

**Author's Note:**

> Um, Corey Todd Taylor radiates Brat Energy from every single pore on his gottdamn body. That is all. Enjoy! Leave me some nice comments for me to gobble up, yes?

Corey is absolutely fucked. As per the usual, his mouth has written a check that his ass is currently having to cash out on. That's what he gets for saying 'how about you make me'. They absolutely make him; no questions, no bail outs, no holds barred. 

In retrospect maybe he shouldn't have been so cocky and mouthed off as well.

Then again, he loves this shit, so he regrets nothing. 

However, he may be well on his way to losing his mind, so there is that. He currently can't see through the crude blindfold made from someone's shirt. Thank goodness they've all had showers in recent memory, because this would be gross instead of sexy otherwise. And he can't really make much noise thanks to the gag in his mouth either. Which isn't really stopping him from trying. Corey does have pipes and he will use them to his advantage, goddammit. 

He can tell some things just from familiarity and size. Jim's hand is splayed on his stomach, soothing the jumping muscles there while Mick is attempting to fucking destroy his ass quite literally. That man should have never been given such large fucking hands, seriously. Two digits and he already feels like he is being fucked full stop. Shawn is crooning a mixture of encouragement and filth in his ear, and the rest of them are a bit of a blur at the moment. There are hands everywhere just touching him all over. It's overwhelming. 

Corey's lost in the mix for a good while before the door opens to the room they're in. Paul's voice floats cheerfully through the mess of incoherent noises that, oh yeah, he's making. 

"Found it!" 

Oh, hell and brimstone. Corey is doomed.

Paul is notorious for his own Collection of Various Devious Devices. Corey has seen and contributed to a lot of Paul's collection over the years and also been at the mercy of said collection. 

Fuck. 

Paul deposits his find on Corey's stomach. It's a small pouch and Corey can feel the zipper bite into his skin a bit. 

Fuck! Oh fuckfuckfuck!

"What do ya need?" Shawn sounds a lot more gruff at normal volume, ragged even. 

"He just needs to be soft. I got all the lube I need." Paul is too goddamn cheerful. Corey hates him a little. Little cheerful prick already gagged him, now he's got him lined up for fucking torture. 

Paul's statement must be the green light on their dumb plans to end him though because all at once everything becomes way too fucking much. There's at least two hands working his dick now, which is a relief because no one has touched him so far. Mick also picks up some speed. There's a little too much sensation all too quickly and Corey almost can't take it. His back arches off the bed he kinda forgot about being splayed out on, and every stroke goes straight to his dick. 

He's so lost in everything that he almost doesn't realize he's coming or screaming or lifting his hips off the bed until it's all over. A large open palm pushes him gently back down. Several hands now, touching him, anchoring him. 

It takes them a minute to either get over the sight before them or maybe they're being nice to him instead of complete bastards. Either way, there's silence, then movement. It all feels and sounds kinda far away but he's sure that is a belt buckle or two and several pieces of clothing. 

In amongst all of this, Shawn is still whispering sweet nothings to Corey. He has that calm and soothing tone of his going. Corey, for all intents and purposes, is just gone. He's floated entirely out to the edges of his senses with no chance of return.

Corey goes from splayed out on his back to on all fours very swiftly. It gives him considerable whiplash of the mental variety. Someone is behind him, one hand on his ass cheek, another applying cold lube. It's a bit jarring, but he doesn't mind too much. It makes his stomach do a couple flips in anticipation, so he's not entirely put off at any rate. 

There's a warmer amount of lube being pressed against his tip, which makes him jump from oversensitivity. Paul is apparently not even going to give him an opportunity to recover because a second or two later, there’s tension and pressure, then the aching slide of sounding rod being slipped inside of his slit. Corey makes an incomprehensible noise that he’s only vaguely aware that he’s making. It stings a bit from the pressure of being spread open in such a way. 

Once the rod hits the base of his dick, Paul leans down to get eye level with Corey. The grin on his face can only be described as gleeful. Corey would smart off to him if he actually could. As it stands, all he can do is grunt a bit in rebellion which just makes Paul grin wider. 

“Well, if that’s how you feel about it…” Paul hums happily, then goes and roots around in a bag that he also had brought up earlier. 

Shit. Goddammit all. Why can’t Corey just keep his damn mouth shut? Even gagged, he can’t shut the fuck up. 

Paul is back a moment later, leaving a pile of what feels like several toys of variable size and texture on Corey’s back, like a threat and a promise all in one. 

“Help yourselves”, Paul purrs. 

“Paul, exactly how big is your collection?” Jim snickers a bit at Chris’s question, picking up one he actually recognizes and trails it down Corey’s ass. Corey shudders as he also recognizes the beaded texture of the vibrator. 

“Wouldn’t you love to find out.” Paul sasses back with a wink. 

A few seconds later of additional lubing later, Corey is being agonizingly filled yet again, all of his nerve endings tingling. One of Jim’s hands is steadying him while the other slides the toy inside. It’s not terribly big, especially after the stretching and ample lube he’s been given but the texture is enough to push Corey to a whole new high. His muffled appreciative noises are slightly lost when Paul starts to gently work the sound out of his slit then back in. Paul starts to move in tandem with Jim, effectively ruining any other chance Corey had of rebellion. 

Corey wants to scream, wants to squirm away from the slow burning agony building up inside of his chest. He’s so goddamn sensitive on one hand, but on the other he’s already getting hard again. He’s torn between bucking and trying to squirm away from the goddamn metal rod in his dick. Someone’s hand is also gently gripping and jerking him off slowly now, making it that much harder to breathe. He’s trying to remember to inhale and exhale through his nose when his head is tilted up and the gag is removed. 

Corey’s panting breaths and groans are cut short by a dick in his mouth, which he happily accepts. There are slight tears being absorbed by the makeshift blindfold still obscuring his eyes. But he can hear the small grunt of satisfaction Shawn makes when he bottoms out deeply in Corey’s throat. Corey lets out a small gurgle and opens wide as he can and just takes what Shawn eagerly gives him, letting him all but fuck his mouth. 

He’s just getting into a rhythm of absorbing all the attention he’s receiving when Jim twists the base of the vibrator, bringing it to life inside of his ass. Corey chokes a little, actually daring to gag on Shawn’s dick out of shock, and having to push him back a little so he can fucking breathe. His thighs have begun to shake with the effort of keeping his anything together. Shawn gives him at least a good ten seconds, then he’s filled back up. The vibrator buzzes loudly inside of him as Jim continues to work the phallic object in and out of him. Paul hasn’t let up either, and there are now a pair of hands jerking him off, twisting slightly. Someone’s pulling the extra objects out of the way and scratching nails down his back which almost makes Corey scream except that he can’t, he can only moan and groan helplessly and take whatever is given to him. 

Corey’s mind drifts away again, taken down to that deep place of subspace where he doesn’t need to do or say anything. He’s just a receiver at this point. When Shawn’s hips start to get more jerky and his breath hitches. A few thrusts later, Corey swallows and gives a gurgled noise of thanks. Shawn pats at his head in appreciation and smears a bit that was missed across Corey’s lips with a finger. Damn, he looks beautiful. There’s another dick in Corey’s mouth a second later, Joey’s by the small squeak that the smaller man lets out. 

Corey’s getting close again, twitching and squirming yet unable to release because of the sound. He’s almost positive that Paul is not going to be allowing that release for a while. The first one was a freebie. He’s going to have to work his ass off to earn the second one. 

He’s proven unfortunately correct a second later when the base of his dick is mercilessly squeezed to cut off his orgasm.

Eventually, the toy that Jim has been enjoying playing with is withdrawn and Corey gets his first dick of the evening in his ass. Which is somehow the most pleasing bit, just being filled with nice and warm and solid and alive. 

It becomes a rotating carousel of perversion after that. Corey isn’t even sure who is where and even when someone pulls off the makeshift blindfold, opening his eyes just takes too much energy that he’d rather focus on feeling and accepting. There’s a mess sliding down both his chin and the back of his thighs. His knees have gone numb slightly and his arms shake from the effort of holding his position under the weight of so much stimuli. But he doesn’t really mind because it’s all blending into the background of just a little too much pleasure. 

Eventually his mouth is released from being rampantly used and Corey manages to slump over face first into cotton and bedsheet. There’s tear trails down his face and each sound is a broken half sob as he’s still being jerked back and forth as Chris finishes using him. With a grunt, he finishes a minute later and everything kind of comes to a sudden stop. 

The first emotion that he can clearly identify is anger. He wants to fucking throw something. How dare they stop?! Then the tears overwhelm him and he’s full on sobbing as he whimpers helplessly into the bed. He’s gone from full on overstimulated to almost nothing and it wrenches something absolutely devastating out of Corey’s chest. It’s huge and unidentifiable, making him scramble backwards with both hands trying to make any contact at all. 

Paul’s hands land on his own, wrenching another sob out of him although it is muffled. Then Paul pulls Corey up, up and into his lap, face to face and all Corey can do is shudder and bury his face into Paul’s shoulder. Paul’s hands are warm and achingly familiar on his body, soothing like a balm, and make him shudder for a whole new set of reasons. Paul fills Corey up perfectly, the way he always has in the past, and sets a gentle but firm rhythm that makes Corey feel like he’s being rocked to sleep almost. Pleasure floods him once again, and Paul’s gruff grunts sound like praise. 

There’s an acute moment where Corey is suspended and held. A second later that shatters when Paul slides the sound out and thrusts straight up and nails Corey’s prostate. Corey comes with a fierce and piercing sound, pulling Paul down with him as they both ride out the rest of their highs together. 

Corey’s not sure if he blacks out or if the ringing in his ears is from years of too much loud sound. He’s also not entirely sure where his legs are, so maybe it’s the post-coital bliss. Paul is also blissed out, gently wiggling himself free of Corey’s body so that he can comfortably hold on to the other. Corey tries to cope with inhaling and being a human being again for a little while, tracing a meaningless pattern into Paul’s back. 

“Fuck!” Corey’s sure that was Chris, and he can’t help but to giggle into Paul’s skin at the exclamation. 

“Remind me to say ‘make me’ more often, if this is how I get treated.” Corey manages after a few more moments of getting his brain cells turned back on. 

Paul snickers a bit, “That’s what you get for challenging me.” 

“Shower time?” 

“Mm,” Paul hums, “Yeah, shower time, baby.” Then Corey’s being lifted, which makes him feel so small but so needed somehow despite the undignified squeak he lets out. He has a brief view of the rest of the room in various states of exhaustion and post-orgasm bliss before Paul’s depositing him in the shower and starting up the water. 

Corey’s barely aware of the shower other than warmth and the smell of soap. Paul’s hands are comforting against his skin now where earlier they were torturous and he can’t help but think of the dichotomy of hands in general. Paul just smiles happily at his blissed out expression and peppers him with kisses. 

“You good?” Paul asks after rinsing Corey’s hair of shampoo and tilts his head for another kiss. Corey leans into the contact and hums happily. He’s so good he doesn’t even know how to verbalize it. He just nods and nuzzles against as much of Paul as he can get to. 

Paul helps him out of the bath and dries him off. And despite the fact that he can actually walk at this point, Paul scoops him up into his arms and carries him back to the room, depositing him next to Shawn, who peels up the blankets for Corey. Corey squirms into the comfort of blankets and is joined by Paul a few seconds later. Everything else can wait for the morning, fuck it. 

There’s tired breathing around the entire room. Joey is sandwiched between Mick and Jim who have made a sort of makeshift pallet on the floor of excess blankets and pillows. On the other bed, Chris is snoring peacefully while being spooned by Craig and clinging to Sid. Corey peers at them all happily for a few more seconds before closing his own eyes and snuggling down between Shawn and Paul and giving up on consciousness.


End file.
